


Thicker Than Water

by wonderingcloud



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Battle of Hogwarts, Drama & Romance, F/M, Female Protagonist, Fluff, Good Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Hogwarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Minor Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley, Minor Character(s), Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Original Character(s), Pre-Battle of Hogwarts, Prejudice Against Slytherins, Protective Fred Weasley, Protective Slytherins, Protective Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Romance, Slytherin, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Strong Female Characters, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Witches, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:42:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderingcloud/pseuds/wonderingcloud
Summary: Astrid has lived her whole life the way she was meant to. The 'Ice Queen of Slytherin' had a reputation both inside Hogwarts and out as the cold and cruel, yet wickedly beautiful eldest daughter of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. She fully expected to continue her reign when she returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for her sixth year, which brought with it the Triwizard Tournament and all its glory.But the entire world as she knew it was balancing on a knife's edge. Darkness was slowly creeping around every corner and to avoid it Astrid's only chance was to play her role perfectly. She never spoke too loud, said too much. She never broke stride or stooped too low. She never stepped out of line and she never let the mask slip.She was everything she was meant to be...So why was it, when Fred Weasley grinned at her, none of that mattered anymore?
Relationships: Fred Weasley & Original Character(s), Fred Weasley & Original Female Character(s), Fred Weasley/Original Character(s), Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Prologue

Astrid Malfoy had been ready for this day her whole life. It was in her blood, after all, to become a witch like her family before her. Not only that, but a witch from one of the greatest and purest bloodlines in the entire wizarding world. One day she would join her ancestors in fulfilling her place on the Malfoy family tree and standing upon the platform where her feet were planted was the first step in doing so.

A large doming ceiling, let the daylight pour down onto the station platform through glass panels, the structure surrounding the milling wizards and witches was a muddled mix of black metal, concrete and ancient-looking stone, Astrid’s eyes studying the sheer size of the place. Platform Nine and Three Quarters was steadily growing busier, and her fingertips twitched slightly with anticipation of the awaited train’s arrival.

Evidently, Astrid Malfoy was not heading to Hogwarts as a stranger of any sort. Her Father had instructed both her and her younger brother in the fundamental basics, hiring various tutors for the young children over the years, to ensure they maintained the desired image when they arrived; and this even included basic Quidditch practice (not that Astrid would actually be allowed to join the team of course).

Draco, of course, tried to hide his excitement about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by copying his father’s dissatisfaction, but really, he was just jealous he wouldn’t get to go for another two years. He stood beside Astrid, a brooding sulk on his face, scuffing the points of his shoes along the floor – something he would surely get in trouble for. But, Draco was currently going through a bit of a rebellious phase, even if a stroppy one at that. Astrid was actually pleased she would not be home to witness it reaching his peak.

She had had such a phase of her own. Aged eight or nine she had gone through a period of refusing to follow the customs set out for her in the community, throwing all she had learned about manners and behaviour into the wind. She honestly didn’t even have a reason for her outrageous conduct, no wonder her father was fast to put her back in line.

Unlike her brother, Astrid herself was quietly pleased that her own day had come. She lidded the excitement bubbling inside of her, but even she couldn’t stop the childish grin breaking out on her face the minute she spotted the old red steam train appearing as a spot in the distance. This was it.

She knew would miss her mother, most definitely. She turned to her and was brought into a tight embrace, clutching on to her mother’s cloak for longer than would be appropriate as they said their goodbyes. Gripping her mother’s dark cloak in her pale fists, Astrid soaked in the sweet things Narcissa whispered into her ear - not wanting to let go either. That was until her father let out a low warning for them both.

Astrid and her mother had always been close, as had Narcissa and Draco. Her mother was everything Astrid had idolised and wanted to be when she grew up. She knew she would write her daily, full of the feats she had learned in her time away.

A small flicker of nerves appeared in her stomach at the same time as the excitement though, an emotion she also knew better than to let show. Nervousness was a sign she didn’t know what she was doing, a sign that she wasn’t in control. Malfoy’s were always in control.

What if when she arrived, it wasn’t what she was expecting? What if she had to complete a challenge that she wasn’t prepared for? What happened if she wasn’t sorted into Slytherin?

That last question was silly, of course she would be. Her entire family had prospered in that house, and Astrid knew her personality fitted those of the requirements like a hand in a glove. There was no other place she could honestly see herself being placed.

Glancing up at both her parents, Astrid knew standing with the other three members of her close family that she stuck out like a sore thumb. Mainly just because, unlike them, her hair was a dark brown colour, a startling contrast to those around her. Draco had inherited their father’s platinum hair and since Narcissa coloured hers the same regularly, it made Astrid appear as if she wasn’t a Malfoy at all but belonged to some other pureblood family standing on the platform instead. If you talked to her for even a minute you would know instantly that that was not the case, but by appearance alone, she wasn’t much of a Malfoy. She had always loathed that about herself.

Still, there was definitely one family that Astrid could not ever belong to…

The Weasley’s were a gaggling bunch of lawless, feral blood traitors and they made no shy attempt in hiding it. It was chaos looking over at them all as they flooded into view, a sea of red-headed scrawny kids all bundling straight onto the train. Her father had warned both her and Draco about them. Both their mother and father had red hair too, showing as clear as day the family unit. A young girl in her own worn clothes clutched at her mother’s side. There was an older boy (who ultimately looked the most in control out of the siblings) and then it was just a mess of more children, none who Astrid could exactly define separately from the others.

Two almost identical boys, both pushing trolleys were messing about next to them – clearly twins and clearly Weasley’s. They were grinning with smiles bigger than Astrid had ever seen on another person’s face, and it was strange how they didn’t seem to notice the weird looks they were getting from other people going past –didn’t they notice how people were reacting to them? A giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it, as one of the twins almost fell flat on his face, but the noise was cut off when her father grabbed her wrist, sternly telling her not to get distracted. They had an image to maintain after all.

Astrid wouldn’t have him to remind her of that once she stepped on the train. It would be down to her to show the Malfoy legacy. She wouldn’t fail him.

Other than the intimate hug between mother and daughter, the goodbyes between Astrid and her family were short and practically emotionless. She was reminded to write them every week, using her own owl instead of the cheap-grade ones from the Owlery and she was to achieve good grades and work hard (like any other daughter would be expected to). But there was no ‘I love you’ exchanged between father and daughter, not that she expected it.

Wanted it? Maybe. But expected it? Never.

She was just his daughter after all.


	2. Chapter 2

The world was awash with light and colour. Thunderous music boomed through the air, flooding through every inch of Astrid Malfoy. People upon people, in the thousands, had swarmed into the vast stadium, all of them looking so small that they were barely dots scaling the walls. The giant, white, curving structure above arched over their heads like a dragon, sheltering all those below it with its enormous wings.

Astrid felt it. The buzz. The irresistible tug inside of her at the sight of all those people, cheering, yelling and grinning to their heart’s content. Nowhere had ever felt more alive. She shared a look with her brother and knew he felt it too. Draco was still young; he hadn’t learned that there was a time and place for frivolous emotions yet – and that such a place was certainly not within the view of others. If her father had her way with him, as he did with her, then there would be no time for feelings at all.

Draco’s face was lit with joy, and despite wanting to warn him away from it, it sparked happiness within her too, seeing him like this. He, unlike his sister, did not attempt to hide his wondrous stares around the place. Astrid settled for an equable smile on her face at Draco’s giddiness – it wasn’t often her little brother was allowed to be little anymore. He _was_ nearly fifteen, after all, the grumpy, snarky stage could only be expected.

Whilst the Quidditch World Cup would be a spectacle for anyone, it was more than that for Astrid.

She loved Quidditch.

It was the time, her time, for frivolous emotions. It was her time to feel the wind rushing through her hair, cold smacking against her face with every move, stomach twisting and turning with every dive. It was her time to grin out in the open air. No controlled smiles, no fixed posture, none of that at all. If she wanted, she could just fly, up and up and up, into oblivion, never to be seen again. She liked to fantasize about that feeling, about just leaving it all behind and never looking back.

But then she’d remember.

Such a thing would never be possible. It was wrong for her to even want it. She had responsibilities, duties to her family. She could never and would never let them down.

So, as the Malfoys turned their backs on the crowd and ascended upwards, towards the Minister’s box, she schooled her expression and followed behind the small flailing of his black cloak. If he was to turn around, he would see nothing less than what he expected. After all, for Malfoy women, Quidditch was a social event to be enjoyed, but never overly celebrated.

Astrid could still remember the disapproving letter she had received from her parents when she had made Chaser for the Slytherin team last year, but she sent them a reply refusing to give the position up, using the excuse that it had actually improved her communications with her Housemates. Draco was already in the team, Seeker, though even Astrid would admit the only reason he made it was due to their father’s bribe. She on the other hand had got on the team through her own sheer hard work, something no one could take from her.

Her Father’s cane tapped against the floor surface, the silver metal top glinting in the floodlights and pale hair dropping down his back. Draco followed behind quickly, his feet padding next to hers as he caught up. The three of them started up the stairs, Lucius first, then Astrid, then Draco.

She had that same solid as stone mask set on her face as the Malfoys arrived at the location for the Cup, their father easily leading his children up to where they would the game from, Astrid’s straightened brown hair flying in the wind behind her as she walked.

***

At the same time, the Weasley clan made their way towards their seats at the top of the stands, all of them – Harry and Hermione included – constantly staring around them in awe of the place, electric excitement flying between them.

“Blimey Dad!” The youngest brother called looking out at the throngs of wizards moving about beneath them, “How far up are we?”

It happened to be that remark that caught the attention of approaching Lucius Malfoy, and always one to goad the inferior, Astrid’s father did not attempt to hide his remark.

Well, put it this way… if it rains, you’ll be the first to know.”

A small gust of wind brushed past, flailing his white-blonde hair behind him as Draco Malfoy came to smirk up at the family alongside his father, a haughty look on his face. A chuckle passed between father and son as daughter caught up to the pair, standing just behind. Lucius went to leave, but Draco continued to call out to the family,

“Father, Astrid and I are in the Minister’s box,” He bragged to them. “By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself,”

Lucius stopped abruptly, causing the end of his cane to jab right into his son’s chest. Draco’s hand came up to the mark it hit as he stepped back, trying not to wince.

“Don’t boast Draco,” His father told him sternly, before once looking up at the Weasley family, “There’s no need with these people.”

Fred ignored the little brat and his father, instead choosing to study the girl following behind. She had cut her hair shorter since the end of last year, but it was still dead straight and dark – setting her apart from her family. If it weren’t for the black, smart attire and haughty look gracing her features, he may have mistaken her for another member of the crowd. Astrid Malfoy didn’t need words like her brother to convey how she felt about their family though, one look was enough - her head held in the same high manor, eyes almost bored of the whole situation already.

“I assume you’ve met my daughter Astrid, Arthur?”

Lucius turned everyone else’s attention to her as well, almost as if he noticed she was slipping out of reality and he wanted to haul her back. “After all, she is in the same year as two of your children - who could forget with all the trouble they cause?”

Fred didn’t miss the sly jab at him and his twin, but neither of them was particularly bothered by it, after all, it was only the Malfoys.

“Weasleys.” Astrid greeted them in a bored tone, with barely a nod of the head in acknowledgement.

At least she was the politest out of all her family, even if it was a very low set bar.

“Malfoy.” The twins replied at the same time, with the same wicked grin plastered on each of their faces.

“Father I do believe the match is about to start,” Astrid said, constantly aware of the building tension.

“Ah right,” Lucius replied, looking back at Arthur Weasley one more time.

The clan went to move away, Harry nudging Hermione to steer clear of the man. But Lucius swung up his cane, effectively trapping the sleeve of Harry’s jacket against the metal bar, “Do enjoy yourself, won’t you?” He offered a smile that made guts twist, “While you can.”

The look of disgust washed over his face once more before he turned away, beckoning for his children to follow. Fred’s craned his neck and watched the Malfoy girl’s back keenly as she went, noticing how she kept glancing at the pitch, several more times actually. Perhaps Astrid Malfoy was more interested in this whole event than she was letting on.

“Seriously dude?” He was broken from his trance by George slapping his arm,

“What?” He defended, glancing at the retreating girl again, “She’s not exactly bad to look at.”

“You’re forgetting one thing,” Ron joined in, glaring at the spot where the devils just stood, “She’s evil.”

“She’s not as bad as her brother,” Fred said, no idea why he was defending the Malfoy girl – they didn’t exactly get along.

“That’s true.” George agreed, “She hardly speaks to us.”

“Because she thinks she’s too good for us.” Ginny scowled, “too good for anyone.”

The last words of Ginny’s sentence were cut off by Arthur hurrying his children up the stairs, to where their seats waited for them, right at the very top of the entire stands. They all hurried upwards, giddiness for the upcoming game to big a thrill for the Malfoy encounter to dull down.

Except for Fred who gave one last glance over to the Minister’s box where they sat, only to make full eye contact with Astrid Malfoy herself.

Unlike most would, Astrid didn’t look away, instead, she held his stare, challenging him with her steely grey eyes to do something. Fred noticed she wasn’t scowling, but instead there was an almost playful glare there. He made a move to wave at her sarcastically, hoping it would throw her off, but she suddenly looked away as her Father said something stern and her eyes glued back to the pitch unwaveringly.

Fred was still staring when Lucius Malfoy followed where his daughter’s eyesight had been, not impressed when they landed on the Weasley boy. Fred immediately looked away, letting himself succumb to the frenzy that was the Quidditch World Cup rather than be scorched alive be the vicious man, whose eyes, though the same unforgiving grey as his daughters showed nothing of a game about them, but instead, pure, raw disgust.

***

Astrid stared at the miles of the pitch below her, mind still tingling in awe at the events that had just concluded. Merlin, it was amazing. Quidditch as Hogwarts was nothing compared to the thrills watching the professionals gave her. In another life, she would have dreamt of one day being up there herself. It was almost unfair that Bulgaria won, simply because of Viktor Krum. His talent alone should not have been enough to take away from all those points that Ireland scored – but then again, that was the game. Most of Gryffindors wins were down to their seeker’s skills, rather than the whole team’s.

Many of the other spectators had already disappeared, descending from their seats to enjoy the colourful festivities that lay around the tents, but her family were still in the Minister’s box, Fudge and her Father still in deep conversation even twenty minutes after the match had finished.

In the end, she muttered some ridiculous excuse about needing air that her father actually bought. Although the game had been thrilling, the box had become stifling since and there were only so many high-ranking Ministry workers she could talk to without wanting to gouge her own eyes out.

Really, she was ecstatic inside, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. She didn’t really care who won in the end, her father never allowing her to see enough matches to become attached to a certain team. But the intricacy of their formations and tactics was almost genius. She just wanted a few minutes to celebrate alone.

Astrid went further away than she probably should have done, leaving the stands completely in favour of submerging herself in the crowds of thousands. Although she constantly watched how she looked to others, there was something about becoming insignificant and just one of many in a shoal of fish that made her feel as if she could breathe a little lighter.

There were fireworks and more music, flags of black and red flying high for the Bulgarian winners. People milled outside around their tents, lots of faces painted the same the Weasley’s were and there was even dancing.

Astrid passed tent after tent, all identical to an outside perspective but all holding completely different worlds inside. Some would be larger; others would be smaller. But right here, right now, all aspect of wealth was hidden by pale, brown, canvas exteriors that flapped a little in the wind. Except for her own family of course. The Malfoys would never camp, not even in the finest tent that money could buy. They had their own, personal portkey, that would take them straight back to the Manor.

Dressed in her black clothing, Astrid stuck out like a saw thumb even amongst her shoal of fish, all who kitted out in as many colours as there were flags. As her boots sank a little into the uneven earth, she cursed how women’s smart fashion always had to be so darn impractical. Thank Merlin she didn’t choose to wear heels today.

“Oi Malfoy!”

She immediately spun around at the sound of her name, groaning internally at the sight of red hair running towards her, identical in brown cardigans and green smudged faces. Their hair was a sight to behold in itself, dropping over their brows and almost covering their eyes completely now, but it was those infuriating smirks they constantly had plastered on their faces that annoyed Astrid the most – especially when she was trying to listen in Charms class.

At least she was alone now, she didn’t even need to try and be ladylike around these two, they seemed to make it impossible anyway.

“Tweedledum, Tweedledumber.” She nodded at the twins respectively as she replied.

Her eyebrow quirked at the sight of brown leather bags clutched in all four of their hands, bulging with what she assumed to be coins, “Gambling I see,” She said, her own smirk growing, “What would your father say?”

“Well actually, we’re winning.” One of them said, patting his pockets which were nearly overflowing as well.

Astrid thought it was George, it looked like George. She’d never put much of an effort into telling the two apart even if they were in the same year. They were Gryffindors, so she hardly spoke to them and to be honest, most of the time they said the same thing anyway.

As George spoke, the other one – Fred if she was correct – pulled out a single coin and flipped it in the air. The sunlight caught the coin perfectly as it reached his peak, before falling straight back into his hand. A just chuckled at their stupidity, a chuckle they appeared to be very confused at.

“Not with that money, you’re not,” She smirked, “You might want to look again at who you’re placing bets with. I’m not sure banks take Leprechaun gold.”

The look that struck their faces was better than anything. She twiddled a piece of her dark hair, watching their reactions with bemusement, “Better luck next time…”

Suddenly, an ear-piercing scream rang out across the field, amplified by more and more joining it.

Heart jumping to her throat, Astrid looked to the sky as the world around her became darker. Clouds grew over the sky, once warm with the setting sun was now black and angry with rumbling thunder.

People started running, screaming, pushing and shoving one another. They were everywhere. Something exploded, flames starting to leap into eh sky. Something was on fire.

Astrid’s shoulder was shoved at as people pushed past, and she went stumbling forward, only to be caught by arms. She made frantic eye contact with one of the panicked twins in front of her, his arms still on hers. None of them was moving. No one knew what to do…

She looked up and stopped in her tracks. Her mouth dropped open as the air morphed above their heads, a skull forming in the sky.

The Dark Mark grew across the clouds.

Astrid stumbled back a few steps, reality dawning on her… this couldn’t be happening…

“Shouldn’t you be joining in the family fun?” George suddenly sneered at her, moving back as if to distance himself further from the girl.

The words struck Astrid, even amongst what was going on. It was like a stab in the gut. The thought that she knew… the thought she would have anything to do with this… that her family…

It was impossible.

But that didn’t stop the fear in her core.

“Shouldn’t you be finding your family?” She fired back, disguising the hurt as always with a swipe of her malicious tongue, “Wouldn’t want to be mistaken for muggles, dressed like _that_.”

With those words left in the air, the girl started running off, one thought echoing through her mind. She had to find Draco. Was he with her father? Or had he left too? He couldn’t be lost amongst this, she had to find him.

Similarly, the twins turned and ran for their family tent in the opposite direction.

She ran. But it felt like the whole world was running in the opposite direction. She was shoving her way through as quickly as she could, lurching and staggering all over the place with every contact.

Fire surrounded her, wind howled whipping her hair around her face, smoke filled her lungs and nose, fogging up her path. The world around her was burning. Her hair had become a tangled knot that she shoved out of her face.

They would still be in the arena, wouldn’t they? Merlin, she hoped so. That would probably be the safest place right now.

Without warning, her foot caught, and she went pitching forward, crashing hard onto the ground below her. Her hands caught her fall and that’s when she saw them.

Figures moving through the chaos, cloaked in black and masks gleaming in the flaring light of flames, black pointed hats reaching into the sky.

Her heart stopped. It couldn’t be… It just couldn’t.

There was no way, not again, not now, not ever.

She froze where she fell on the floor. Suddenly unable to move as she watched the figures travel straight through the carnage, torches of fire in their grasp.

One turned towards her. She gasped.

It stopped in its tracks, staring at her. A dreadful feeling pooled in her stomach as she stared into the hidden eyes beneath the skull mask that she refused to acknowledge.

On instinct she scrambled backwards, heart pounding so loudly it echoed in her ears and breaths quickening as she panted faster and faster…

The figure turned away and left.

But the image of the hidden face remained imprinted in her mind long after she scrambled back to her feet and continued running.

***

“Would you like me to have a look?”

Astrid’s question was quiet as she appeared in her bother’s doorway. The door was open, so she did not knock, it was not likely they would be disturbed. Both the siblings’ rooms were in a different wing to their parents and the elves would not come unless they called for them.

Draco stood in front of his full-length mirror, shirt unbuttoned and staring at the bluish mark forming over is ribs. The look of pain on his face dropped the second he became aware of his sister’s presence and he hesitantly re-did the buttons and straightened himself out. But Astrid saw the wince anyway, it was no use him hiding anything from her.

“I’m fine,” He told her, refusing to meet her eyes.

With a sigh, she let the door fall closed behind her and approached her brother anyway. He didn’t try to stop her as she deftly opened the shirt back up, cold fingers gently tracing the mark on his chest without an ounce of pressure. She had to swallow down the anger at the sight of the ugly mark marring his pale skin.

This wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. A tap here, a prod there, for when they stepped out of line. They didn’t often bruise as such, but this time had been directed onto the middle of the ribcage.

“I have some ointment,” She said, glancing up at her brother’s grey eyes, mirroring her own.

Draco didn’t say anything, just gave a nod that was so small that, if it hadn’t been Astrid, no one would have noticed it.

Gone was the confident and boastful boy in the stands, instead, Draco stood in front of her as he really was, and he was hurting. Astrid hated to see this new look on her brother’s face and stood there longing for the summer to end all of a sudden.

Tears pricked her eyes the second she was out of sight, and she was sure they were in Draco’s eyes too. But that was the rule, Malfoy’s didn’t share their pain, it was theirs to dwell in, theirs and theirs alone. Astrid couldn’t show her sadness in front of her brother any more than she could her anger. She was pretty sure neither of them would have a clue about what to do with the other’s tears, Draco certainly wouldn’t be able to deal with hers and he had enough to worry about on his own. She needed to be the strong one between them, for when he couldn’t be strong himself.

As she dug out the ointment from her drawer, she let her mind briefly drift to the Weasleys. Their faces had been like the creation of a toddler in a paint shop, scraggly and messy and the complete opposite of her. Yet, they were all grinning and laughing with no cares in the world, like they had no care for what others thought of them. It was just the family that mattered, she had never seen a bond quite like it.

Family was the most important thing to her too… but it was different.

She guessed it didn’t really matter how they were seen by the world, not for them. Not like it did for a high standing family like hers. Not everyone could run around freely for the rest of their lives.

So, she took a deep breath and banished all thoughts of the gaggle from her mind. Checking briefly in her own mirror she was pleased to see the same face she always did, no shine from in her eyes at all.

Draco was much the same when she re-entered his room, except for the shirt he had left undone as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. His shoulders were slightly slumped as if the events of yesterday were physically weighing him down, the same way they were weighing her down too.

Silently, she knelt in front of him and began to apply the ointment with the tips of her fingers. It had been given to her on request by Gilly – one of the house-elves.

Neither sibling spoke as she finished, replacing the cork in the bottle and getting back to her feet. But, instead of leaving she joined Draco, sitting next to him on the edge of his enormous bed, the black silk sheets dipping beneath her weight. Neither of them had to speak to know what the other was saying.

Things were changing. And the World Cup was only the start.

What worried Astrid most was the part her family would have to play in it.

Their Father arrived home late that night, much later than the siblings themselves. And when he did return, he would not talk about what had happened. He said he had no part in it, Astrid’s head said that he was lying. He knew that she had lied, that she had gone exploring, his eyes told her as much. But there was no reprimand, no reproach, because the second he was he’d have to admit that he’d seen her. And the only person who saw her was that man in the mask.

The man in the mask, who was a Deatheater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Please don't forget to leave kudos or comments if you liked it xx


	3. Chapter 3

Astrid adjusted her high-necked top, wrapped around her throat in a chokehold, sucking everything close to her body. Her eyebrows were drawn into a straight line as she stared at herself, seemingly unable to bring an expression onto her face. Her dark hair was perfectly straightened, not a single kink insight and effortlessly framing her pale features.

She was the perfect daughter. And she felt like it too.

But she didn’t feel much else. This year, the bubbling excitement - that she got even at the thought of returning to Hogwarts every year prior – seemed to not be there, and her body almost felt void of that nervous energy. Instead, she found herself blinking back at her own face, unable to even will up the corners of her mouth at all. She tried thinking back to the World Cup, and the giddiness the atmosphere had made her body feel, but even that was now corrupted by a shadow of worry about the events that had followed.

Events which she still hadn’t quite worked out.

There was something, something she just couldn’t escape about that man in the mask, something so familiar… and when she’d run to find Draco, _he_ wasn’t there with them. And since they’d returned home, _he’d_ barely uttered a word about the whole thing…

It had been weeks, and not one thing had been said, not one thing about the fact that _Deatheaters_ – the movement that _her_ family used to be a part of – had ransacked and destroyed and hurt innocent people, and that her _Father_ was there the whole time, that he’d taken her and Draco _with him…_

It was a downwards spiral that only ended in one horrifying conclusion – a conclusion Astrid refused to acknowledge.

So, she did what Malfoy woman did best, and forcefully shoved her head into the sand. She refused to think about it, because, at the end of the day, what good would thinking do? What good would filling her mind with endless questions and fears do other than ruin her?

He wouldn’t do that. Not again.

Not after everything that had happened last time. Not when she and her mother almost lost him to Azkaban, when he almost ended up in that dreadful place to be tortured for the rest of his life.

Barely a toddler herself back then, she was so close to not ever knowing him, to Draco never knowing him…

Astrid had no concept of what was happening all those years ago, of course she couldn’t have, she was barely three years old. But one of her first memories was of her mother crying, holding onto her daughter as she sobbed helplessly for hours on end. She didn’t need the full picture to know what her mother had been crying about.

Her Father wouldn’t endanger them like that again, he just wouldn’t.

She turned away from the mirror, confident in that fact and moved to the large bed, it’s silken sheets crumpled under the weight of her school trunk.

Carefully, she closed the lid and sealed it up, knowing everything she needed and more for this year was stored inside, thanks to a helpful extension charm. Her robes were also conveniently placed on the top, so she would easily be able to access them on the train and change before they arrive at Hogwarts.

She may not be thinking about what happened at the Quidditch World Cup, but that didn’t really matter, because there was another thought swirling about, so large it threatened to consume her entire mind.

Astrid felt the presence of her mother in the doorway before she made it known. It was a skill of hers, always being able to tell when someone was nearby. It was as if she could feel the shift in the room like the air grew different around them.

Glancing over her shoulder at the woman standing there she muttered a soft ‘Come in,’ under her breath before turning away again, even though the door was already open. She knew what her mum wanted to talk about, but she really didn’t want to hear it at that moment. She just wanted some time alone, to think things through.

“This year is important Astrid,” Narcissa spoke quietly – she always did, “Not just for you and Draco, but for your Father and I too.”

Astrid didn’t meet her eyes, checking and re-checking the buckles on her trunk again to distract herself from being angry at her mother. She never wanted to be angry at her. “Sweetheart, we only want what’s best for you.”

“I’m sixteen,” Astrid said, so quietly that it would have inaudible if it was not for the silence absorbing the room. But she didn’t need to be loud to be heard.

“I know,” Her mother came closer, forcing Astrid to meet her brown eyes.

Narcissa Malfoy was a very pretty as a young woman, you could see it when you looked at her face, even now that symmetry of her features and plump lips had stayed with her as she grew older.

But her thinly arched eyebrows and lined eyes did nothing to rival the natural beauty her daughter possessed. Narcissa knew from the day that she first held Astrid in her arms that her baby daughter was beautiful and would only grow to be more so.

As a mother, she couldn’t have been prouder of the young woman standing in front of her now, as her hand reached up to Astrid’s face, painted nail stroking along her cheek.

With her beauty and her name, it was no surprise that it wouldn’t be a struggle for Astrid to find a husband, but Narcissa knew as well as any that marriages were better formed young amongst the community, it made them stronger, more likely to survive, and gave less time for things to go wrong beforehand…

Narcissa loved her daughter more than anything, and all she wanted was to see her safe and secure and happy. She wanted Astrid to marry for love, as Narcissa had loved Lucius, but like everyone else, Astrid also had a duty to her family and her people. It was a duty that she knew her daughter would never let them down on.

“We love you,” Narcissa always made sure to let her daughter know.

“I love you too,” Astrid told her mother. _But I don’t want to get married._

She didn’t want to get married, _yet,_ is what she should say. In the end, it was inevitable, and it was something she did want. It had to be if she also wanted a roof over her head, a life she was proud of and a family of her own.

But this was her second to last year at Hogwarts and she didn’t want to spend it stuck in her formal self, sharing polite conversation with possible suitors and having to watch every word that came out of her mouth every minute of the day.

Especially since this year was the Triwizard Tournament, and yes, both her and Draco had been told what it was by their Father already. It sort of ruined the surprise, but oh well, she was sure Draco would enjoy the power of knowing something that the other students didn’t.

Astrid wanted to enjoy the tournament, it sounded like an experience no one would want to miss. She wouldn’t pity the participants though, research back into the subject revealed to her that someone had even died taking part before. Still, it would be entertaining to watch, even if it did mean working extra hard in the spare time to cover everything they should in the year. The content was all going to be in their NEWTS after all.

If she spent the year worrying about how she presented herself at all times, more so than usual, then she risked slipping up in her studies or not enjoying the year to the full extent. And she did want to enjoy herself, these were her last years of being relatively free.

Alongside her mother, Astrid left her room leaving the door open ajar behind her. The house-elf would follow them out with the luggage. Descending the spiral staircase one step at a time, her own face stared back at her from the bottom of the hall.

Where her mother held the delicate parts of Astrid, Lucius Malfoy was the cold, calculation and cruelty behind her stare.

Astrid could hear Gilly struggle down the stairs with her trunk as she reached the landing, shoes echoing off the polished floor. She turned to the elf, who was taking the utmost care not to let the trunk - which was almost the height of her - touch the ground, but she quickly turned away again.

“Astrid.” Her father gained her attention again immediately, Draco already stood beside him at the door, his hair as slicked back as always, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Father.”

With a confirming nod, her mother turned on her foot and the four of them walked towards the large door as was custom – even though they could easily apparate from the hall – and it was opened for them by Gilly, who ran in front of them to do it.

“Gilly hopes Master and Miss Malfoy have a most pleasurable year at Hogwarts,” The elf bowed low as Astrid took the case from her.

She opened her mouth to thank the elf, but immediately closed it again. Thanking the elf was something she only did in private. You weren’t meant to, but it felt wrong to not do so when the elf had done something specifically just for her. Instead, she just gave a polite nod to Gilly and turned away to face the large, black iron gates at the end of the tree-lined driveway. Her father’s face turned to meet hers, and although no words left her mouth, she could tell what her icy-blue ones were ordering.

Don’t mess up.

This year was important to him and the family name. The tournament provided ample opportunity for Astrid to meet suitable choices of her own age, and even have something settled in time for when she finished school. She knew not to let him down on the matter and Astrid knew she never could. They were her family after all. And family always came first.

***

Astrid quietly made her way down the train, towards the Slytherin carriages, on her own. Draco had rushed off as soon as they stepped on board – something about getting his own seat before Crabbe’s fat backside took up all the room – but Astrid didn’t mind. When they got to Hogwarts, she wasn’t overly attached to her brother in public anyway, he’d made quite a reputation for himself that she didn’t always want to be assumed to follow.

Unlike her brother, she didn’t find thrill in picking on the first years or weak and wibbly Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. She simply had better things to do than waste her time sneering at them. But Draco was renowned for causing trouble amongst other students. Astrid didn’t care as long as he didn’t lose Slytherin any house points or get any detentions, last year as Prefect she was faced with her brother’s hooligans one too many times to cover for him.

That was one achievement her parents had actually been proud of, and she’d chosen to focus on that in her letters, rather than the Quidditch team. Being Prefect was a real achievement for her as far as they were concerned, so they were much prouder about that than any matches she had helped her team win. She doubted the Quidditch season would even be on this year, what with the tournament, and that would be a shame. But, according to her father, she would have plenty to keep her occupied with the attending Beauxbatons students, so she shouldn’t be focusing on anything else anyway.

Many pureblood families chose to send their children to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts. It was seen to be the more ‘proper’ institution of the two, with tradition more entrenched in its system. Her father had initially wanted her to go there, but her mother had actually out her foot down on that occasion. Astrid was glad anyway; she wouldn’t have wanted to go anywhere else than Hogwarts.

She had heard that Durmstrang didn’t admit muggleborns at all, so it was a surprise her Father hadn’t insisted that Draco go there. Still, she wouldn’t have liked Draco being so far away overseas. Despite their separation at school, she liked being able to keep an eye out for him and to be there if he ever needed. She was his sister, and he was her brother, there was no one else like that for them. They needed each other in ways others couldn’t understand.

She walked down the train corridor, passing many students bustled up together in their compartments, a mix of first and second years bubbling with excitement and older students chatting animatedly about their holidays. The trunk was clutched firmly in her grasp, and she thanked Merlin that the extension charm meant she didn’t feel the weight of all those extra clothes she had packed.

Finally, she spotted her housemates, and typically they had managed to pick the carriage at the very end of the train. But never mind, she was here now.

The compartment door slid open, revealing the three other Slytherins sat inside. Adrian Pucey, with his delicate features, immediately rose to his feet at the side of Astrid, holding his hand out for her trunk, a half-composed smile on his face.

“Long time no see Malfoy,”

“Not long enough,” She glanced back up at the brunet, whose hairline only seemed to have grown squarer since the last time she had seen him, but with a hint of a smile on her face.

She handed it over and slid into the place where he was originally sat next to Mora Brawley, a dark-skinned girl with sleek black hair. She was probably the nearest that Astrid had to a proper friend. Unlike the other three people in the carriage, Mora wasn’t from an entirely pure-blooded family, her father was a half-blood or something, but Mora was the closest thing to a pure Slytherin as you could get, so it didn’t seem to matter. She held herself with the same kind of poise as Astrid, except on her part it was effortless, catlike eyes always holding herself in good esteem – which she needed in order to not be seen as a weak link.

Cassius Warrington was also sat in the compartment, leaning against the wall of the carriage, an amused smirk on his face as his friend tried, and admittedly almost failed, to hoist Astrid’s luggage onto the rack, thanks to his lacking in the height department.

Cassius was much better looking than his friend, with light brown curls and an attractive face, but also had a much less pleasant personality to go with it. In all honesty, Astrid found his obnoxious god-complex rather irritating to deal with, especially since he didn’t come for a very high standing family in the first place. It appeared his only aim in life was to take over his father’s ministerial position after Hogwarts; it was also the only thing he ever talked about other than his hair. Unlike Mora, he wasn’t quiet in his pride about who he was.

Annoyingly, he somewhat reminded her of Draco.

“Well, someone is clearly in the same mood as ever,” He remarked, raising an eyebrow and clearly goading her. “I suppose I should ask how your summer was.”

“There’s no need,” Astrid reminded him with a perfectly balanced voice, “You were at the Summer Ball,”

Not that ‘ball’ was really the term for it, there was no dancing as such. More being paraded around next to her mother and nodding discreetly in agreement at the words of some minister or another, politely answering questions only when asked.

“What about you Mora?” Adrian asked as he finally sat back down next to his annoying friend, “How was your holiday,”

Mora just shrugged a little, “Uneventful,” was all she said.

It was one of the things Astrid liked about the girl: never too many words, and not for any other reason than the fact that more wasn’t needed. She was nice company when most of their other housemates were so darn talkative all the damn time.

“Did any of you hear about what’s happening this year?” Adrian moved on quickly, unable to contain the slight excitement in his words. For a Slytherin, he was more like a puppy dog than a snake, Astrid mused thoughtfully.

“No, what?” Cassius sat up a little in his seat, his tone sounding almost insulted at the possibility that he was being kept out of the loop.

“Well, I don’t know,” Adrian admitted, “But that’s the thing, no one really seems to know. Apparently, something is going to happen this year, something big, an event or...”

“Was last year with an escapee prisoner not enough?” Mora sighed, raising an eyebrow at him, “Or how about the Basilisk the year before that.”

“That’s not what I mean. There’s something big _planned_ to happen.”

Astrid, of course, sat there silently as they discussed the possibilities, even though she knew exactly what the rumours were all about. She wasn’t about to tell them though; they could wait alongside everyone else to find out. What all the hush was about exactly, she didn’t understand. Surely it would be better for all the students to know what was going on before arrival so they could get ready. The vast majority would probably love the surprise, but there would be a few that would have wanted to know beforehand that their lessons would be impacted.

As the conversation flowed, Astrid let out a small sigh and settled back into her seat a bit more, her eyes drifting to watch the world fly by past the train window.

She was lucky to have chosen a carriage with the more subdued of her peers. Merlin knows what she would have done had she had to sit with Greengrass for the whole journey – probably have hexed her mouth shut, that’s what.

Or at least, she would’ve imagined doing so in her mind. The truth was Astrid wouldn’t have done anything because she never did. She couldn’t recall one time in her life when any decision she made had been abrupt or rash or spontaneous, that just wasn’t who she was. Or wasn’t who she had been taught to be… either way it made no difference. She couldn’t change the sort of person she was now anyway, and she didn’t want to.

The person she was did well in her studies, was sociable enough amongst her peers to be popular, was a chaser on the quidditch team and a proud member of her family.

She was also getting married soon.

But not too soon. Her parents had only just broached her about the idea, and she wasn’t even contemplating going through with it until she was finished at Hogwarts. This year was just a chance to meet some of the sons in the community that she hadn’t met before. She knew her father was particularly keen for her to talk with Austin Travers, who because of his studying in France, she had not met before. But he was her age too, and from a very well respected family.

It would be a good match.

It would be good for her family.

It would be good for her.

But she didn’t want to think about it.

Abruptly standing up, Astrid caught the attention of the other three carriage members, quickly announcing that she was going to go and change into her robes. It was a little early to be doing so, but not so early that it would look weird, and she needed a breather. Retrieving her uniform from the top of the trunk, she closed the compartment door behind her and quickly made her way back down the train, taking deeper breaths than she normally did.

Why was the issue bothering her so much? It shouldn’t be, right? It shouldn’t even be an issue. Practically everyone gets married, and hardly any people do actually know each other properly, what counts as ‘knowing’ someone anyway? Surely being able to live together and feel something for each other was enough of a foundation, and they could work on it from there.

Marriage contracts amongst pureblood families tended to last longer and better than other marriages in the wizarding community anyway. Look at her mother and father, they were great together. They were arranged, and yet they still fell in love. There’s nothing either of them wouldn’t do for the family, absolutely nothing. That’s what Astrid wanted.

She would be happy if she could achieve that.

Even with all these thoughts rushing around her mind Astrid knew her expression did not change at all, having learnt younger that the more confident you are in your actions, the less you will be questioned about them. No one would ever doubt you if you held yourself with enough conviction, and she was a master at the art.

If fact, she was so lost in her own head, that she only noticed the flash of another body leaving another compartment too late. Their shoulders collided roughly, sending her spinning around. She practically bashed into the opposite wall, her shoulder painfully colliding with the wooden panelling.

“Umm, sorry-” The voice of the other person immediately rang out, a mess of robes as they scrambled to collect their dropped possessions, scattered all across the floor.

Without thinking she stooped down and picked up a lone chocolate frog box that had landed against her shoe. Rising to hand it back to the person she suddenly she caught their eyes, or rather, the sight of a mop of red hair, and realised her mistake.

The youngest Weasley brother stared back at her, a half-empty brown bag clutched in one hand and the other frozen millimetres from Astrid’s own outstretched one as if he didn’t realise he was facing the ice queen of Slytherin until too late, and now didn’t know what to do.

Astrid sighed, already annoyed with his frozen gawp. It was the first time she had ever paid any attention to the second youngest Weasley, and it was immediately clear to see he did not possess many similar features to his older brothers – aside from the trademark red hair. Whilst Fred and George were idiots by character alone, Ronald Weasley seemed a bumbling fool in every sense of the word.

“Well, are you going to take it?”

His eyes suddenly snapped back to life, a large blush suddenly spreading across his cheeks. He stumbled over some incoherent reply, quickly taking his snack back from her with a shaking hand, before turning away and practically sprinting down the corridor away from her.

Whether it was because he was afraid of her, feared he had made a fool of himself (which he had), or simply because he had the social skills of a frightened rat– she didn’t know.

And frankly, she didn’t care.

Draco would have a field day if he knew she went out of her way to help a Weasley though, even if it was in such a minor way. However, something about that idea threatened to make her smile a little bit as she scoffed at the scurrying boy and continued on her way.

Weasleys. They certainly were an entertaining bunch.

She had never really encountered any of the other siblings, but the twins had made quite a name for themselves amongst their year. With all the antics they pulled she was surprised they hadn’t been expelled yet – especially as they weren’t very good at not getting caught. She had to admit though over the years their fooling around had grown more, refined, as their skill level improved. And you couldn’t say that they weren’t entertaining – when their practical jokes didn’t affect Astrid or her work that was.

Momentarily she found herself wondering what they did with all that fake gold. It was a darn shame, even for them, it was a lot of money that they should have won. But never mind, it was their own faults for being dumb enough to gamble anyway.

She hadn’t been surprised about the way they had talked to her at the match, she’d spoken to them in the same way. They didn’t really mix; she had a couple of classes last year with one or both of them – but like most of their kinds, they tended to avoid each other.

In her Father’s eyes that family were almost as bad as the muggleborns. Dirtying their sacred bloodline by intermingling with the lowest of the lows. But then again, her father seemed to have a personal vendetta against Mr Weasley, anyone could tell from seeing their interactions. It made Astrid think of what Mr Weasley could have done to make her Father react that way.

It was pointless filling her head with all these nonsense thoughts about nonsense people in the world. She had important things to think about, like looking her best for when the other schools arrived at Hogwarts. She needed to make a good impression on those who mattered to her.

Even if she didn’t feel ready for marriage yet, they were still her people, and she was representing her family and everything she valued. It was important they liked her, or more accurately respected her, the aim was even for some to revere her.

She’d have to see how it went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> I just realised that the previous ones were coming up the wrong way round when you open the story, I'm so sorry about that, but it's fixed now.
> 
> Please leave kudos or a comment if you like what you read xx

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Firstly I want to apologise for any confusion caused about where this story is being posted. Originally it was just going to be a continuation from the one-shot but I didn't want things to get muddled or spoil anything for those who only want to read all the chapters, so I decided to post the full story separately.
> 
> For anyone who wishes a quick flick through Astrid and Fred's tale, the one-shot is still up under the same name!
> 
> This story follows Astrid's sixth year through to the Battle of Hogwarts (so, Harry's fourth year onwards) but I may split it into two if it gets too long.
> 
> It will not always be an easy read, so I hope you're ready for laughter, love, heartbreak and pain, magic, mischief... and a good old dose of our favourite redheads!
> 
> Please don't hesitate to comment or leave kudos if you like what you're reading! Hearing feedback means the world to me!
> 
> Xx


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